Tags
AMHudlow, cutting, death, depression, fear, fiction, love, night, prayer, sadness, stories, story, suicide, texting, worry
“Come on! Move faster!” Rhett yelled at the car in front of him. Of all times for him to be
stuck in traffic, this was the worst. He needed to get to Anna. He combed his fingers through his curly dark brown hair and slammed his palm onto the steering wheel causing the horn to blare at the old woman’s Caddy. “Move!” But alas, the car in front of him crawled on the asphalt. He glanced at the clock on the dash, 12:13 am. He looked up to the moon through the windshield and prayed. Prayed that he wasn’t too late.
AMHudlow 